


Wickedness Be Your Passion

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Corruption, Curses, Dark!Hermione, F/M, Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 11:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: The trio's hunting down for artefacts in order to destroy everything that is dark. They are in the Forest of Dean where one just happens to find them, but can Lucius save her for making a terrible mistake? Does he even want to?





	Wickedness Be Your Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the delicious prompt pic. Just knew what I was going to write the moment I saw it, and for M for reading this over for me.
> 
> This is the one/shot version. I hope to write a small mini-story for this to go on and on and see what Hermione does. I mean it to be three or four chapters.

** Wickedness Be Your Passion **

**September 6TH 1979**

A lonely silhouette stood against the full moon rising above the trees. Everything was black except for the lattice lights and patterned shadows the moon was casting through the gaps of the partially bare trees. He was leaning against the side of his flashy motorbike, dressed in a mix of muggle leathers, and wizards robes. The cape flew behind him. He held a shovel over his shoulder and his fist hid an item he was preparing to bury.

Hum.

“Oh no you bloody well don’t!” he snarled.

Although thickly dressed he shivered as he realised he was too near a violent werewolf pack. There was nothing to protect him except his wand and his rather special ability. Still, that was not enough to save him. “No one must find it,” he said each word with every stroke of the shovel. “Lower – Deeper – No one, must. Find. It!” he said through gritted teeth.

His brow was starting to perspire, and he unwrapped his robes and cast them aside, sweat marks formed under his armpits and on his torso, despite the cold night. ”Shut up!” he hissed, spittle fell from his lower lip. “SHUT UP YOU DARK PIECE OF CRAP!”

The mission he had set himself was to rid himself and his little cousin of the object that had caused the madness of the entire family. Unfortunately, it was a treasured possession of his mothers, he had stolen it the night he ran away to get to his best friend's house in time. What else could he do? The madness spread too far, affected too many people. Even he was, although he loathed to admit it.

Dig deeper, lower, no one must find it. How could this family have been so stupid?

Hum!

The tone had become insistent. Extremely high pitched and was causing the ground beneath him to shudder along with it. “NO!” he yelled. “DEEPER. FASTER. NO MORE! NO MORE!”

A light breeze ruffled his long, thick onyx locks. “This shall not hurt anyone else,” his little cousin was too sweet to be under the curse. She deserved to be sane, Suddenly, he stopped, so did the whine of the object.

A flash, a glint of silver wrapped between his fingers, he held up the pendant. A heart made of Whitby jet, Victorian mourning jewellery and was cursed by an enemy of the Black family. He had to save them. The future of the Blacks depended on it.

The desperate man let his hand fall to his side, slowly he loosened his grip on the trinket where it reluctantly slithered through his fingers. He could almost feel the relief with every shovel of earth he poured over it. The man was dirty, cold, and in need of fire whiskey but now, now he had saved his family. Not that he’d be thanked for it.

“No more,” he sighed after the last shovel. “No more,” he rearranged the scenery to how it looked before with efficiently cast spells. He knew he could have buried the amulet magically but there was something satisfying about connecting to the earth with the shovel. To fight against the amulet meant he had overcome the challenge on a personal front.

The girl was safe.

“No more,” he said as he swung his leg over the bike after donning his robes. He glanced over his back and glared at the spot, he turned on the bike, revved up the engine and set it to fly. “No more.”

Little did he know that the pendant was just waiting. Waiting for its next mistress. Waiting for the time to be ripe for a new Darkness.

Waiting for the witch that would someday change the fate of the wizarding world forever!

On the 19th of September, the amulet began to hum…

**October 31** **st** ** 1999**

A girl was sitting on the forest floor with a book in her lap, she was avidly reading it. If you looked closely enough you could see her lips move as she mouthed the words of the page to fully absorb them in her soul. If you could lip read, these are the words that you would see formed by her beautiful cupid bow lips.

** _The Jet Amulet_ **

_ Hum. _

_ Thrumming through the forest. _

_ Hum. _

_ Giving the trees no rest. _

_ Hum. _

_ Beneath the decayed beauty of brown leaves _

_ Hum _

_ Of the once emerald canopied eaves _

_ Hum _

_ Hear this sound and listeners beware _

_ Hum _

_ Lusts, darkness, and tragedy be your despair _

_ Hum _

_ Shall live in dolorous debt _

_ Hum _

_ For who-so-ever shall touch the amulet of jet _

_ Hum _

_ All of you heed this warning clear _

_ Hum _

_ Will never be released from its icy grasp _

_ Hum _

_ The moment upon the neck it clasps _

_ Hum _

_ Hear this sound and run… _

_ Hum _

_ Run! until you run out of fear _

Hermione snapped the book shut and breathed heavily. The two boys were sleeping in the tent whilst she was camping, and she could not for the life of her think it was a good idea to read horror poetry by top wizard Ghost Writer Francis Emma Anthea Reeves. The book itself was called An Anthology of 20th Century Myths and Legends.

Hum.

That sound made her sit up.

Hum.

She recalled the words of the poem and scoffed. What was this some stupid horror movie? It was just her mind playing tricks on her.

Hum.

The sound infiltrated her being.

Hum.

Thrumming through her every nerve.

Hum.

Sinews in her arms seemed to strum along with the monotonous tone.

Hum.

It was nearby, surely it could not hurt to investigate.

Hum! HUM!

It was like that movie, Jumanji, where the boy hears a sound and gets into a lot of trouble, but Hermione was smarter than that. “No one ever got into trouble by reading a poem,” she enthused as she started crawling to the sound. “It’s just a few made-up words.”

She was about to dig for it until a cane stopped her hands. She glanced up meeting yards of black fabric until she met the icy gaze of Lucius Malfoy. What was he doing here on a relic hunt?

“Unless you wish to die, Miss Granger,” he tilted his head to the side, “I suggest you go no further. Mind you, this is a rather interesting development,” she sighed as she scurried back up, wiping the dirt off her hands on the seat of her jeans, “The Jet Amulet is only supposed to call those with darkness in their veins.”

“I am shocked that Voldemort did not think to find it. That’s if it’s real.”

“How could it not be real?”

Huffing out her irritation, Hermione rubbed her hands together even though she was wearing a dark green pair of cable knit gloves knitted by Molly Weasley and was a Christmas present last year. Nothing could hide her irritation at being stopped by this man who should, by rights, be left in Azkaban to rot.

“If it was,” she said blowing her hair out of her face, another irritant she wished she could get rid of, but her hair was stubborn. Every time she had it cut; it was back to normal the day after. Harry had said his follicles was the same. But he’d grown it beyond his shoulders now and claimed that Ginny loved to play with it, even Ron’s hair had passed his shoulders. It seems Hermione was destined to have long, awkward, bushy hair. It was not fair that Lucius Malfoy should possess the prettiest hair she had ever seen.

“I’m working for the ministry, Malfoy, what’s your excuse.”

“I was commandeered to help you three make sure you do not make a serious mistake, and you almost did.”

Hermione folded her arms under her breasts and scoffed, “By hunting for a fictional amulet?”

At this Lucius turned his head and sighed, puffs of air escaped from his lips as he noticed the girl had not even bothered to purchase proper robes insisting on those muggle things she looked terrible in. Lucius Malfoy had seen her in robes. As far as he was concerned she looked much better in them - although, he conceded, she would appear better with nothing on but a lacy bra and some silk stockings.

“You heard a constant buzzing humming sound, did you not?”

“Yes,” she answered tersely.

“You are on the hunt for other dark and dangerous artefacts are you not?”

“Clearly you’ve been briefed.”

“Of course,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be working in tandem with the golden trio.

She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side, “How come we haven’t seen each other before now?”

“Because usually, you are the sensible one. I shall not dignify that ignorant remark with an answer.”

“Fine, how do you know the amulet is real?”

“It was an ancient Black family heirloom.”

Huffing out a cold, humourless laugh Hermione shook her head, “Of course it is,” she said a hollow tone to her voice.

The odd twosome stood there, at an impasse, neither wanted to speak but both knew at some point they had to. A cold wind whispered around them, the humming sound had grown an octave or two higher. Neither knew how long they stood there. Hermione with her hands on her hips, carefully scrutinising the man before her. Lucius with his nose in the air as if he was sniffing out something, refusing to even glance her way. Hermione was not sure she should feel insulted or pleased.

“Well,” she said eventually as she reluctantly tore her gaze away from him.

In this setting, with deadened trees around them, the cold bracing air suggestive of winter waiting in the wings, in his long black cloaks. Straight blond hair, and dazzling blue eyes, Hermione could be forgiven that he was a Lothlorien elf protecting his demesne.

“Who er, who commissioned you to bodyguard us, not that we don’t need it?”

“There are others,” he snapped disliking the silence being broken. “Others that have not fared so well since Potter defeated the Dark… sorry,” he apologised the moment she arched her brow and pinched in her cheeks, the expression would have been imposing if she was not wearing a matching bobble hat and scarf around her neck. “Voldemort,” he squeezed through gritted teeth. “How could you even want to go on the hunt for these things is unfathomable to my way of thinking!”

“Oh you know we had such fun doing it the first time round that we decided we’d do it again,” she responded sarcastically.

“What about school?”

“I only join them on my holidays. It’s half-term. I’ll be back next week.”

“Right, because I was told you were part of the team full term.”

“Whoever told you…”

Hum, another octave. Hum. Louder. Hum. HUM. HUM. HUM.

“I HAVE TO!” she clapped her hands over her ears, even Lucius felt it wise to mimic Hermione. “I HAVE TO FIND IT, THAT NOISE IS TERRIBLE.”

“THE LOUDER THE HUM THE DARKER THE MAGIC IS INSIDE ITS VICTIM.”

“THEN YOU'RE VICTIM, MALFOY, IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T ANY OF US. WE’RE LIGHT!”

HUM. HUM. HUM.

“GET INSIDE THE WARDS AND STAY THERE, GRANGER, DON’T ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS.”

“IT NEEDS TO BE FOUND.”

“JUST GO!”

With a vehement glance back over her shoulder Hermione stomped her way into the tents protective wards. But even then the sound became a piercing whine reminiscent of tinnitus. The insistent noise couldn’t be ignored, and Hermione found it difficult to sleep. There was something buried in these woods nearby.

HUMhumhumHumHUMHUMHUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMhumhumhumhumHUMHUM

Constantly now, varying in pitch and tone, in her ear. Whatever this thing was, it needed someone. Someone awful to do its bidding. At least if she picks it up it won’t get into the wrong hands.

HUMhumhumHumHUMHUMHUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMhumhumhumhumHUMHUM

Unable to stand it any longer, the insidious noise had kept her awake. She pushed herself out of her cot and smirked as she picked up her new wand. The dragon heartstring was from a different beast than her old wand and her wood had changed to elm.

“Now to take out a far too curious Malfoy.”

Deciding gloves would get in the way she tossed them aside and left the security of the tent, and the protection wards, tiptoeing past a now sleeping wizard. _Some watcher he is_, she snorted as she followed the sound of the hum. She felt the vibrations beneath her feet and the humming stopped. She was there, in the direct light of the full moon.

She transfigured a stick of wood into a shovel, she took a moment to admire her handiwork and she started digging. The moment her shovel touched the soil she felt the humming start to dissipate. She dug and she dug, aching, sweaty, blisters forming on her fingers and she was sure a few splinters had embedded themselves in her flesh, but she did not care. She no longer cares for anything other than finding the true source of the buzzing that would not leave her alone all night.

It was rather strange, the Weatherman on the Radio had said it would be foggy. but it was a beautiful crystal clear night. Eventually, despite not having any seeker skills, she noticed something glinting out of the corner of her eye.

There it was. She was certain. The source of her troubled night sleep.

She lowered herself on the mud, her fingers itching to touch the metal but suddenly she remembered what happened to Katie Bell after touching that cursed pendant Malfoy Jr had given her. Without hesitation, she picked up a section of her nightdress and ripped out a good portion off of the bottom and used that to swipe away at any loose dirt that was in the way then carefully, ever so slowly, picked it up by its solid silver chain.

There, dangling down from it was a heart-shaped piece of Whitby jet. Tears cascaded down her muddy face, leaving clear tracks in their wake. Steadying herself with a deep breath she bent over and scrambled for purchase so that she could stand up in the big hole she’d created.

“Let’s see what all the fuss is about then, shall we?”

Stairs formed in front of her due to a useful piece of magic found in an obscure scroll that was purported to belong to Helga Hufflepuff. Despite all her energy spent on making the crater-like hole in the woods, she quickly made everything look tidy again with some charms and smiled at a job well done.

Then, when she was certain no one had yet discovered her absence, she held up the pendant against the light of the moon. She was mesmerised by the way the light rebounded off the amulet – black was supposed to repel light, so she thought but this jewel was special. A sudden girlish impulse swept over her and she desperately wanted to try it on but as she held it again, she heard a faint voice whispering – her ears were ringing and she felt euphoric; _ try me, _ it seemed to say. _ Wear me as I should have been worn all those years ago. _

As if in a dream, Hermione pushed her head through the necklace fluffing out her hair so she could feel the cold metal against her skin…

“GRANGER NO!” a frightened voice cried out.

The girl sank to the floor in weeping dismay as clarity cleared away the fog from her brain. “What have I done?” she whispered.

Collapsing on the floor at the same time that Lucius skidded on his knees to stop her from cutting her head on a vicious piece of stone jutting out from the ground. He cradled her head on his lap and stroked away the hair from her face.

“Granger,” whispered Lucius as he took in the ghastly sight of Jet Amulet gleam and glow, as it took its food from Hermione’s heart. Already her features sharpened as her humanity was seeping away from her. “Granger, I cannot take it off, only you can. Take it off. Let me kill you before you are no longer recognisable.”

"I'm scared," she shivered in his arms, her lips turned blue. 

Only the mistress could survive, Lucius was already imagining coming back to the tent with the sad news. What would a Gryffindor like to hear? Ah yes, "Don't be frightened, Miss Granger, death is just the start of something new."

Something inside her made her eyes glow brightly as she sat up and then flopped down lifeless on his lap. Tears flowed freely as he hugged her close to his bosom, crying for her death!

Slowly she opened their eyes and Lucius shuddered at the glint of red in the centre of her once brightened pupils. Warm eyes, she had such warm kind eyes, and now she was staring up at him with cold, emotionless orbs.

"Oh Lucius?" she throatily sang.

Startled, Lucius thrust her at arm's length, "You're alive?" Then he paled considerably, "that must mean...!" the horrific truth crushed his heart, "Take it off! Hermione, I order you to take it off now!"

“Why would I do that Lucius?” she purred as she languidly stretched along his lap, “want to play, Lucius,” she asked coquettishly, he was starkly reminded of Bellatrix. “I want to play. I want to try everything I’ve been told is wrong like, hmm, sex magic?”

“Please take off the amulet,” Lucius pleaded. “What about your friends?”

“They’re so boring, Lucius,” she wriggled in his lap, “All they do is talk about _Quidditch_, take me back to the Manor, Lucius – show me what being dark truly means.”

Something clicked in Lucius’ brain, “Of course I shall take you to Manor,” he whispered soothing her sweating brow. Perhaps she had been chosen Lust as her darkness. That would be interesting, and she’d need a dark companion to slake the deviant appetites that would entail.

“Take me in the Manor Lucius, please?”

“I think you mean, take you _ to _ my Manor?”

“I meant what I said, I’m all salaciously, licentiously, and wickedly yours.”

Despite his promise to the Minister of Magic that he would abstain from all dark artefacts and practices, he could not ignore how his dick responded to the girls pleasurable purrs and writhing on his lap.

“Treat me like I’m a naughty student,” he turned to glance into her eyes, her pupils had dilated and she was panting.

Lust had taken her body and soul and her first victim was Lucius Malfoy.

He could no longer resist those huge, caramel eyes “All right,” he smirked, “I shall take you to the Manor and I shall take you _ in _ the Manor in as many ways as you want!” At least he was qualified to care for her.

No one knew of Hermione Granger after that fateful night. Some say she was ravished by wolves, others say she was ravished by Lucius Malfoy, and others never gave up on trying to free her.

No one would have predicted the madness that would have taken over the Wizarding World.

The amulet jet has worked its evil on a new mistress. Indestructible and unable to hide from the perversions it wrought upon Miss Hermione Granger - and with her, she brought a whirlwind of darkness all across the land. Hardly anyone could escape her wrath.

The last thing her victims saw was a black luminary shaped like a heart, glinting its evil malice, and the last thing they could hear was a persistent hum as it fed on the life source of every living thing nearby; draining away their force, giving its wearer a deathly pale beauty, a beauty twisted by the darkness so that _ she _ was as treacherous and dangerous as acid rain.

A heart that was once ruled by compassion - now dealt with swift and heavy injustice, the cold ruthlessness that once possessed Bellatrix Lestrange.

Under her violent rule Wizards trembled, witches shivered and mere mortals could do nothing but obey.

All the while the jet amulet stood proudly against her chest as she rode in, like a Valkyrie, seeking war. Not far from her, riding by her side was a loyal Lucius Malfoy who loved her with all of his own corrupted heart.

Hermione Granger was no more, in her place stood the Dark Lady who owned everyone’s fear and squashed it with the heel of her boots...


End file.
